All Time Offense
by nayagasm
Summary: She smiled cheekily at me, stepping closer and pressing her chest to mine. Toe to toe and standing a full four inches taller than me she smirked and whispered, "All time offense, captain. I play for both teams." Brittana!Soccer Santana!Captain
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! It's a new story featuring our favorite couple, Brittana. With a twist! Soccer. Yes, soccer! Because everyone loves soccer, right? And I figured it'd be great and fun to write about!

So here we go, Chapter One (actually a prologue)! Feel free to leave reviews because this is new and all. I don't really have any other soccer Brittana fics to base mine off of so I don't know what you guys would like so feedback would be lovely.

Also, I understand that some of you may not know soccer terminology so I'll have a little section at the END of every chapter so that you know what I'm talking about.

Thank you and enjoy!

International Annoyance

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><p>Chapter One<p>

Prologue

It's that burning legs, lungs heaving, muscles screaming kind of feeling. It's that crowd deafening, "soccer strip" celebration after a kickass goal kind of feeling. It's that bass drum heartbeat with a dry mouth and wide eyes kind of feeling.

It's adrenaline, and it's coursing from my cold HBIC heart through my Hispanic rooted veins and warming me up faster than the blistering heart of a dry, hazed summer day.

It was like a ball in the face.

It _was_ a ball in the face.

Hands groping for a quick pain reliever, I fisted a clump of grass and yanked hard, hoping to quell the burning sensation on her now swollen cheek. No such luck, the numbing sensation was long gone and soon replaced by a dizzying, prickling feeling.

"What the_ hell _was that?" I barely managed to growl out through a swollen jaw, hand cupping it gingerly. Eyes still trained on the yellow-green grass, I tried to assess the damage of my now marred facial features.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't see what color penny you were wearing so," my eyes followed the sunken in grass to royal blue and glaring orange Nike Superfly Mercurial cleats shuffling nervously in front of me, "so I went to knock it off you for a throw-in." The bright, bold shoewear shuffled again, digging into the clumpy, uneven turf. She was nervous, if her body language and stuttering vocals were any indication.

But I'm Santana Lopez, and honestly, I don't care.

"You've got some fucking nerve trying to knock out your damn captain at tryouts. What team you on, rookie?" Prying my hands off my swollen, caramel cheek I wiped away the green offending shreds still clinging to my dirt scuffed arms.

"None cap'n, I'm all time offense." A bit of mirth shone through her vocals, no doubt followed by a cheeky grin.

"You think this is funny? You'll be laughing your ass off when I'm through with you. On the line, fresh meat." I hissed out, ripping grass more violently than probably necessary off my red dry-fit tee.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I just thought it was funny is all." She stuttered out meekly. Meekly -because really, who wants to run sprints on the first day of tryouts?

My eyes finally drew up to the Nike cleat donned girl, abruptly feeling the unhinging of my jaw drop slack.

A messy, blonde bun companied by red, flushed cheeks. Cobalt, darting eyes scanning the captain's face worriedly, nervously. Long shapely legs followed by her well-used boots. She was clothed in a bright yellow dry-fit with the words, LIVESTRONG printed on and black running shorts to match. She was heaving hard, just the way I liked my players to let me know I was in control. She was beautiful.

Jaw slack and eyes wandering, I could really only think one thing.

That feeling.

There was that feeling again; that jaw dropping kind of feeling. The kind that felt like your heart was pumping dubstep and the butterflies in your stomach decided on an impromptu mosh pit. The _oh shit_ kind of feeling when you realize that the road you call life is about to take a sharp turn and you better buckle that seatbelt if you want to stay alive.

It's adrenaline too.

"Name, rookie?" I whispered almost inaudibly, swollen jaw and all.

The thudding sounds of cleats on hard-packed dirt raced up, encircling the Latina. Some worriedly, some excited to finally see the two-year captain finally fall and not get up.

"Brittany Pierce, cap'n. Center midfielder and striker."

I nodded, more to myself than anyone else and more of a reassurance of sanity than anything else, "Santana Lopez, second year captain and center midfield."

Brittany smiled shyly and nodded before taking the initiative, "I'm sorry. I just thought it was funny." She wrung her hands nervously, clenching and unclenching her fists and bouncing on her heels.

"What was funny?" I raised an eyebrow, having forgotten the reason for the assembly of girls on the white painted line.

"All time offense, cap'n."

"Care to explain why would that be funny?"

With new found confidence that I never would've expected, she smiled cheekily at me, stepping a little closer. Toes touching and standing a full four inches taller than me she whispered quietly, "All time offense, captain." Leaning in impossibly closer, her glistening blue, eyes peering challengingly into my own brown orbs, "I play for both teams." She finished with a playful wink before sprinting off in the opposite direction with her possible teammates, hooting and hollering along the way.

I stood, feet planted firmly, and my mind still trying to wrap around what just happened.

All time offense? Plays for both teams?

Oh.

I beamed to myself and welcomed those mosh pitting butterflies in my stomach with welcome arms.

Well, this was definitely better than being nailed in the face.

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><p>Penny: A soccer "bib", like a sleeveless mesh material shirt used to identify one team from another in a drill or scrimmage.<p>

Center Midfielder: Center midfielder (there are two center midfielders in most lineups)

Striker: Forward, the most offensive player and commonly known as the scorer

Nike Superfly Mercurials: The sexiest pair of cleats I've ever seen.

All Time Offense: All time offense, pretty much plays for whoever has the ball at the moment in the drill. But in this sense, at the end it's used as a play on words to describe Brittany's bisexuality.

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><p>So that was the prologue and actually much harder to write than I thought it'd be. I'd originally planned for this to be written as Santana's POV but it's really difficult for me because I'm so not used to first POV.<p>

But I actually like the idea of first POV, so we're going to take a vote!

Santana's POV: 0

Third Person POV: 0

So let me know in your reviews and feedback please! Or if you don't care, just say it doesn't matter or something. Thanks much!

Also, apologies to those of you that wanted Harry Potter/Brittana crossover. It's been forever since I've read Harry Potter, sorry! So I decided to go with what I know.

This chapter was actually really choppy, sorry definitely not my best.

Suggestions and feedback would be well appreciated. All flames and insults will be promptly noted as well, but definitely will be laughed at.

Over and out!

International Annoyance


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry it took so long to post! I've been going through a dry spell in regards to this story because there's really a million different ways I could go about this, but it's just so hard to pick one.

Also, PLEASE READ THIS.

I don't know about the North, but down South we have high school soccer season in the Spring. I don't quite remember, but I'm pretty sure they play high school soccer in the Fall and then cheerleading is in the Spring. I could be wrong, but even if I am – that's how it'll go in my story.

International Annoyance

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><p>Chapter One<p>

"Since it's the first week of you being a team, we'll be doing a combination of marine and navy drills to sculpt you trash into proper athletes. We will continue this until the second week of school, three weeks from now. When I'm sure the fat and stench of failure have been sufficiently obliterated from your life forms we will begin to practice with balls."

A small collection of immature snickers resounded through the group only to be hushed with a few well-placed elbow jabs from the more responsible, experienced players. I cringed because these rookies were up for a rude awakening and because of the unintentional sexual innuendo.

Balls? Ew.

"Captain Lopez, pick your number." Coach Sylvester snapped me out of my vomit-inducing thoughts, standing challengingly, arms crossed and menacing as usual, behind a battered cardboard, poorly taped box full of well-funded and therefore rather attractive, red and white v-neck soccer uniforms.

Ignoring the slight tremor of excitement down my spine, I strode confidently to the box, my hard but regal steps pressing hard into the short, stubby greens.

"Why does she get to go first? I'm just as good, if not better and I –"

"And you're trash. Or have you forgotten that, Berry?" Sue never really beat around the bush, "I still don't remember how you got to be a soccer player, much less a _varsity_ player. I may have been drunk – or _sabotaged_." Her eyes squinting in the sun flickered to her surroundings, shoulders tensing up. "Damn federal agents are on my tail again."

"I'm a reliable defender and I always –" Rachel huffed, choosing to ignore her coach's last comment.

"Screw up – which is why you're on the bench as of next game." Sue replied with a deadpanned expression.

Nice move, Berry, you always know how to dig yourself too deep.

I snorted to myself, hand slapping down on my lips as fast as the noise had come. Laughing now would do me no good, but knock me out of Sue's good graces once more. Settling down and getting my straight face back in order in under a second, I rummaged through the jerseys and short shorts – way too short to be actual soccer shorts I noticed.

Finally spotting the red jersey sporting a white number six on the back, my school number for the past year, I trotted back into place beside my newly announced teammates.

"Lopez, pick your backup captain." Sylvester commanded to me, thrusting a clipboard in my direction.

I scanned over the list of names that must have been our team roster. It was pretty much the same team they'd kept last year since the seniors graduated.

Quinn Fabray was still their treasured keeper, I was still their top offensive player, and no one else really mattered all too much. Of course Tina, Zizes, and that Junior whose name no one really knew still handled the line of defense and I still dominated the center field like the HBIC I was. But there was something different about our team other than Rachel Berry.

Something called Brittany S. Pierce.

Her name stood out on the roster, the little word "starter" scribbled beside it just like it was after mine and Quinn's names. I almost threw a mini party, because really who wouldn't want that piece of ass on the field with them?

I scanned the faces of our medium-sized, seventeen girl team. Who would be my backup captain this year? Quinn was it last year, but she proved to be a control freak and none too subtle about trying to pry the title of captaincy away from me.

A mental checklist in my head crossed the name Quinn Fabray off with a thick, red line.

I continued filing through teammates over and over again, even though I already knew who I'd pick.

"Quinn Fabray."

She smirked smugly at her teammates behind her knowing good and well that every one of them had been hoping it would be them. Turning her head back to me, she reached for the second black captain band clutched in my hands.

I pulled it away with a grin. This is what happens when you try to steal my title.

"Go take a lap. I saw you molesting that cheeseburger at McDonald's." Her face fell almost instantly, and mine flew up just as fast. "What? Did you think this was for you?" I fingered the band almost indifferently in front of her, "Get going, Tubbers."

Quinn scowled with a quiet, "Fuck you, Lopez," before breaking off into a half-assed jog down the white-coated lines.

Badly hidden snickers resounded from my team, who now stood with their own red jerseys slung over their shoulders. Rifling through the mass of bodies, I spotted two culprits.

Brittany and Rachel - they'd gotten pretty close since the tryouts last week. I huffed, but it wasn't like I was jealous or anything, I just didn't really like how Man Hands was standing so close to her. She's obnoxious and loud and I really don't understand why _anyone_ would want to be around her.

I'm not jealous; she's just annoying, _okay_?

"Berry, laps. No laughing, smiling, or speaking when I'm around," I glared at her, letting her know good and well that the narrowing of my eyes wasn't because of the sun, "I tolerate you in school, but this is my field and you will shut the fuck up when I say so. Got it? Good. Go – if you catch Fabray and her fat ass, I'll let you start next game." I almost burst into my own fit of giggles when I heard the abrupt, heavy strides thumping down the lines and Fabray's startled yell of obscenities.

"Santana," everyone's heads snapped to her, eyes wide and shocked, she cleared her throat before trying again, "Erm, Captain Lopez, I was laughing too and I don't think it's fair that I got scott free." She shuffled in that adorable nervous way like last week at tryouts.

I didn't just say that.

Scowling internally I replied faux indifferently, "Well if you want to run instead of trying on your new band, I guess I could give it to someone else." I fiddled with the black band, letting it play on my fingers and starting a mental countdown in my head.

Just as I hit the last digit, a pair of arms hit me. "Really? You mean it? I'm the backup? This is so cool, San! Thank you so much, I promise I'll do my best! I mean – better than my best! I'll give a hundred ten percent, I swear! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

But I really didn't hear much of it because all I kind think of was those hard, flat abs pressed against mine and those long legs that just so happened to be wrapped around my waist and _damn_ how her face was nuzzling into that sensitive spot right below my ear.

I cheered to myself, thinking she wouldn't hear through her celebration rant, "And she scores."

"What was that?" Brittany mumbled into the crook of my neck.

"I said, 'Oh, you're number four.'"

Wow I have no game.

"Oh! Yeah, it's my favorite number. "

"Cool." I smiled goofily into her shoulder, hoping that no one had noticed my embarrassing teenage boy behavior.

No such luck. Fourteen sets of raised eyebrows and owlishly blinking eyes were pointed in my direction. But I'm the captain after all, so this is all easily fixed.

"Five laps for warm up; if even one of you is left behind you take another five. Stay together in a group, we are a team and we will function as one." I commanded in a growl.

Somehow I still had that bitchy captain effect even with a very hot, very touchy blonde wrapped around my waist because in practically 2.5 seconds there was a stampede of feet across the hard-packed dirt. A heavy panting sounded behind me, Brittany still wrapped around my waist. Not that I was complaining or anything.

"Lopez –" Quinn wheezed out before being cut off.

I shot her a pointed look.

"Oh don't even try that captain bullshit with me Lopez, you can't threaten me into anything. I'm the only keeper you have and you _need _me." She hissed out through heavy pants.

I threw an internal hissy fit because every now and then Quinn had a valid point. Unfortunately, this was one of those times. In my mind there were two basic choices, let Fabray have her way and disrespect my authority – or be the badass I am and take the risk.

Well, I _am_ a badass so of course I pick the second one.

"Oh please, we could put Zizes in there and nothing would get past her. She covers half the damn goal. She's like the wall of china – white, big, and built on Asian food."

Brittany slapped me lightly on the shoulder with a whine of, "Santana, that's _mean._" I almost believed her until I felt the curling of her lips against the fabric of my shirt; it was enough to tell me that she thought otherwise and bring a matching grin to my face though I'm positive mine came off much more badass and much less adorable.

Quinn huffed in defeat before gulping down half a bottle of water.

I cheered inwardly, putting up a little scoreboard in my head.

Lopez: 1

Fabray: 0

Mission accomplished.

I took a brief second to congratulate myself. I got the girl, had the bad guy running, and the captain band wrapped around my arm like a trophy. I had it all, because really I'm such a beas-

"Captain Lopez, I do believe that starting position is mine for our first-"

Leave it to Berry to ruin the day and speak at the worst possible times. Or at all.

"No."

"No?"

"No." I pivoted on my heel, heading to my own bottle of water with Brittany still in my arms.

"But Captain –"

"Cap'n said no!" Brittany chirped up, peeking over my retreating shoulder. I came to a steady stop, feet planted squarely with my shoulders and leaning backwards ever so slightly to hold up her weight. Then with a graceful spin that I'd never seen any soccer player possess, she leapt out of my arms and landed with poise.

Involuntarily shivering and mouth drying considerably (it was from the heat, I _swear_) I averted my eyes down to my own metal, eco-friendly water bottle, with full intent to quench my thirst and squelch any thoughts of how Brittany was jumping up and down, hair tossed with the wind and matched with a bright smile and _God_ how her head tossed back when she laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners in glee and –

I'm creeping aren't I?

"Your creep is showing, Lopez."

Yes, definitely creeping.

"Two laps, Fabray."

"Why? Because I interrupted your little eye rape session?"

"Three laps, Fabray."

The disgruntled blonde huffed (she's been doing that a lot lately) and took off down the white lines once more with our team mantra flowing from her lips, "Getting skinny, getting skinny, getting skinny."

"It's good to be captain." A contented sigh passed through from my own lips before a fresh stream of liquid clogged it up much to my relief.

Rachel excused herself hurriedly upon spotting Coach Sylvester out of the corner of her eye, determined to win herself back into Sue's good graces and give herself a better title than "Right Wing Bench Warmer."

Another sigh, this time much more relaxed and relieved than the last. "Finally, some quiet." I dropped into a push up position, the toe of my right boot pressing down firmly into my left heel to stretch my tight calf muscle.

"So," Brittany began, stretching down to touch her toes from a vertical hamstring stretch, "when does school start again?"

I smiled, hiding it in the loose neck of my shirt. Still face down I replied, "In a week and three days. Have you gotten your classes yet?"

She took a second before she answered, "Yeah, I think so. But my cat scratched it up so I don't really know how I'm going to explain that to my teachers. They didn't believe me at my old school when I said it was my dog."

I chanced a glance up to her and quirked an eyebrow upon spotting her goofy grin, "Are you making a joke?"

"I could be. Was it funny?"

"Not really." I grinned cutely (read: like a dork) down to the ground before rolling onto my back to pull my knee up to my chin. My pony tail was messy now, but I guess rolling around in grass kind of does that. I shook it out of my eyes and peeked out from under the dark fringe at her. She was thinking hard it looked like, because her eyebrows were furrowed and her lips jutted out in a soft, pink pout before being captured between two sets of white squares and gnawing gently. I smiled through my question, "What are you thinking about?"

"Something funny."

"Like what?"

"Like how Rachel probably just lost any chance of a starter position for the rest of the season." She said standing up with a crooked smile and fingers laced atop her brow, shielding the aggressive rays from her almond-shaped eyes.

Silly Berry, schmoozing is for badasses.

"Five extra laps because Berry decided to open her fat trap!" Sue's voice boomed through the megaphone and across the field. I almost thought they didn't hear her until a symphony of groans and threats of, _"Rachel you bitch!" _and _"Just wait until water break!"_ reached her ears. I'm almost certain the second threat came from one Lauren Zizes.

And just like that the dam broke, our little giggles and snickers turned into huge laughter blowing across the flat plains. She threw her head back again, just like last time – teeth showing, lips curling, hair whipping, and eyes crinkling at the corner. My breath caught in my throat again, because honestly it's been awhile since I've seen someone so genuinely, breathtakingly beautiful. Everyone at school was so fake and she was just so _real._

We calmed down considerably before she started up a conversation again, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Nope, they piss me off too much." I rolled forward onto the balls of my feet before standing up to my full height.

She didn't waste time asking the next question.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

I definitely didn't see that one coming.

A little shocked I replied, "No –"

"-Good, meet me here at the field this Friday."

"What?"

"It's a date! A soccer date, it'll be cute!"

Now I can honestly say that yes, I was shocked before, but now? Now I was just completely _baffled._"But I didn't even say I was gay."

"You don't have to, I already know." She cut me off before I could ask how she knew. "You made an icky face when Coach Sylvester mentioned balls."

Oh, well that made sense. I was never very discrete about my sexual orientation.

"Wait, this Friday?" I blurted out, worriedly. "Brittany, Friday is _tomorrow._ We have no time to plan everything out, what to wear, where to go-"

"Calm down, we'll just make it up as we go along. Haven't you ever just dropped everything and done something just to do it?" She smiled sweetly, calming me down easily. "You need to let loose," She leaned in close, her lips barely grazing the hollow of my ear and her voice taking on a more sultry tone, "I can fix that."

A stampede of feet was approaching out of the corner of my eye, fifteen girls trudging along with their heads down and completely unaware of what was going on. Brittany seemed to notice to and pulled away quickly, but not before whispering urgently, "Friday."

She stalked away to her water bottle, taking long chugs. Little rivulets swam down the corners of her lips and pooled at the hollow of her throat. She kept her eyes locked with mine the entire time, mouthing the word Friday with a crooked, lazy grin.

I gulped drily and turned my back on her to collect my thoughts.

Friday, tomorrow, would I be there?

I glanced back at her, frowning slightly and made my decision on the spot.

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><p>Cliffhanger!<p>

Can I get a WOOT WOOT! 3,200 words. Not bad.

PLEASE REVIEW. Guys, I need some feedback. Even a little, "Oh hey it was fine, keep writing." Is cool. Hell, even a short, "good." Is fine by me. ANYTHING. Review. Please. I'm begging you.

This is actually a pretty hard story to write and be creative about because there are SO many ways to go with this and I really do need your feedback. I write for you, not myself.

Also, guys I know you don't care but I SHOT MY FIRST SOCCER COMMERCIAL THREE WEEKS AGO! Yes, I'm getting somewhere (:

**And if anyone you guys have a tumblr, it would be totally cool if you could follow me! Look up alltimeoffense and that's me!**


	3. Chapter 3

I really have no excuse as to why this took so long to update. I'm just really, really lazy. I have a million ideas for new one shots and my other story **High School for Dummies: The Lesbian Edition **if you guys haven't already read it.

I'm really sorry guys, I'm just a lazy bum.

But I made up for it some! Super long chapter. The usual ones are about 3,200 words, but this one is 4,600 or something. Also, SO MUCH FLUFF. It's really cute! Like really, really cute. I fist pumped a lot while writing this.

I really hope you guys like it!

I'm really proud of it. I think this is one of the best pieces I've ever written and I hope you guys think so! Thanks so much for sticking with it you guys! Hoping for some positive, happy reviews and comments.

Lots of love for all my reviewers!

Word Count: 4,602

Enjoy!

- International Annoyance

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><p>She never told me what time to be here. I've been sitting here for twenty minutes now, it's nearly half past two. I've been chewing down on some protein bars I rummaged around for in my soccer bag that I keep in the backseat.<p>

I'm on my third one. Oatmeal raisin.

The school lights are off and there's a couple guys down at the football field playing ultimate Frisbee. I scoff and take another chunk out of the faux cookie treat. They're bony and gross and entirely unattractive. Not the cookies, those are good. I mean the guys playing Frisbee.

I take another dinosaur-sized bite out of the wrapper-clad bar. I watch them fling the disc around, trying hard to distract myself from the ticking clock on my wrist. I'm kind of half-succeeding so I keep on watching. I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a kick out of watching uncoordinated people try to play sports.

Derek Tate is with them. He's completely unlike the rest of them with his well-chiseled chest and his flexing arms. He scores for his team and throws his head back with a loud yell and a fist pump. He still has his ridiculously shaggy hair and messy scruff of a start of a beard. He asked me out in eighth grade for the Fall Ball.

I almost said yes. But then I remembered he had a penis.

I snort at the memory and dip my mouth to take another bite. A shiny, metallic inside of a wrapper fills my mouth where store-brand protein should've gone.

Plucking the offensive thing out of my mouth I toss it behind me haphazardly. I don't really clean my car. I make the AV nerds do it and promise not to slushie them when they're wearing white tees. Maybe I'll get Gina to do it this week. Freddy's been looking too happy lately.

I take a small peek at my watch. It's been four minutes and Brittany isn't here yet so I spin in my seat to rummage in my bag a little more. My hand catches another protein bar and fishes it out to be ripped and unwrapped.

It's been four minutes and this is my fourth protein bar. Peanut Butter Chocolate.

I wonder if these things are okay to eat in bulk. I'm pretty sure the calorie count is like 450 per bar. I'm pretty sure that's a bad thing but I'm kind of worried that Brittany's a no show right now.

Maybe she forgot?

I hum through a mouthful of peanut buttery protein. She can't have forgotten. I'm Santana Lopez – forgetting me is pretty much impossible. A date with me therefore makes it twice as unforgettable.

I'm half way through with my peanut butter shit bar (no really this chocolate tastes like shit), when I check my watch again. It's been five minutes since I checked the clock.

It's 2:29 and she's not here yet.

A wrapper fills my mouth up again. I huff and do a 180 in my seat to rummage again. My hand doesn't brush any sleek objects again, just clumps of clothes and a pair of backup cleats that really shouldn't be suffocated in there.

It's 2:29, she's not here yet, and I'm out of protein bars. I'm about thirty seconds from leaving this near empty parking lot and making my home to a pantry full of protein bars and whatever shit I feel like vegging out on.

I press my temple to my driver's seat window with a groan, "I can't believe she stood me up," I puff my cheeks up and let out a long puff of hot hair, tossing my pony-tailed head back into the chair uncomfortably, "I'm Santana Lopez she can't have stood me up. She must be crazy."

"Do you always talk to yourself in the car?"

I snap my head to the right of me, eyes darting haphazardly with an awkward cough and my shoulders rolling tensely.

"Captain Lopez!" Brittany snaps her fingers twice through the rolled down passenger window at me, "I think we have a date to go on?" She lifts one finger, the knotted strings of her soccer cleats hanging on them and twirling in reversing circles.

I stare blankly at her for a couple seconds with my mouth set in a firm line. "I'm out of protein bars," I glare half-heartedly at her because I still couldn't shake the feeling of relief that I wasn't stood, "You're late and I'm out of protein bars."

She stares at me wordlessly before shuffling back to her Jeep. It takes me a second to realize what I just said and how weird that was. Past experiences have proven me to be not only a horrible girlfriend, but also a God awful date, and here I am just ringing these words true.

I crawl across the center console, banging my head on the ceiling and slipping across the rubbery surface with my soccer spiked shoes. My knees dig into the black leather cushions as I duck my head into the gaping hole called my car's window.

I screw my eyes shut - I remember that I forgot what to say. My jaw opens and closes a couple times, trying to get my brain to catch up to my mouth. A garbled mutter comes out.

I'm such a stud.

"Cute noise, but I like it better when you talk." She smiles with a giggle, her baby blues peeking out demurely from under a span of long mascara-slathered lashes. She's dressed in a pair of provocatively short blue running shorts, the little v-cut slits on the sides of it designed with three orange diagonal stripes. A neon pink sports bra stands out underneath her transparent white dry-fit.

"Talking, right." I mumble through a dry throat (it's the weather damn it, leave me alone). "So," I swallow thickly and nip on the inside of my cheek, "How are we doing this?"

Brittany rolls her eyes and grabs my hand that's clutching hard on my car's window frame. "Blueberry muffin or Triple Chocolate?"

"Blueberry, the chocolate protein bars taste like shit." I grumble, stripping the bar of it's wrapper quickly. She gives me a puzzled look, fumbling with the wrapper of her Triple Chocolate protein bar then taking a cautious bite.

"Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, that's disgusting!" She spits every bit of brown debris out until her tongue is solely pink again before tugging her sleeve up to give the muscle a hard rub down. "Oh my God," she chants it like a mantra for awhile into her sleeve, hopping up and down like it's somehow going to get rid of the foul taste in her mouth, "Why did I buy that? It's chocolate – it's supposed to taste good!"

The whole time this is happening I'm trying ever so valiantly to hold back my own food because the way Brittany is reacting is too damn funny and still somehow incredibly cute (I'm not swooning – It's just kind of cute, now go away.).

Gulping down the last bits of my blueberry protein bar, I fling open the door and step out. I watch her for a little bit more, "Why the pout?"

She's still pouting when she answers me, "We weren't supposed to eat protein bars for our date. We were supposed to go to the field and take a couple laps while I woo you with my stamina. Then we were supposed to take shots and I was going to teach you how to shoot lefty because I'm ambivalent-"

"Ambidextrous."

"And I'd maybe come over and show you how to do it by touching your leg and stuff. Then we were going to spend our time goofing off and cloud watching with our backs in the grass even though I know you hate that because the grass is itchy and there are bugs everywhere. And then I was going to take you to Maggie Moo's or something to get a milkshake or frozen yogurt or something. Then I'd drive us back here to your car and kiss you-"

"You were going to kiss me? What if the date went badly?" I inquire with a raised brow.

"Then it would've been an 'I'm sorry' kiss, duh. But now it doesn't matter because I was late and you've already eaten and it all happened because I'm bad with punctuation!" She threw her hands up to her hair, scrunching it up in her fingers in frustration.

"Punctuality." I pause for her reaction. There's a scowl set on her lips that looks like it really doesn't belong there. I don't really like it and I can tell she really, really wanted this date to go well. "So that was all supposed to happen, yeah?"

"Yeah." Her hands are by her sides now, twirling idly with the material of her thin shorts.

"So you must've thought a lot about it then to break all that down into details." I tease gently.

She's not the least bit thrown off by the question, responding with a vigorous nod of her head. "Yeah, I did. I was really excited to make everything awesome. But I mean, you're part of the date, so it's already awesome. And then I'm here too. So it's twice as awesome now."

A wide grin takes my mouth hostage. "Come on, Pierce. We have some laps to run."

Brittany beams widely, the smile reaching her eyes effortlessly. "Prepare to be wooed." She sprints off to the field with her giant soccer bag bobbing up and down on her back, leaving me three steps behind before I finally spring into action and follow her whooping and hollering self.

By the time we reach the fields she's already cast her bag off to the side and is ripping down the white lines, her bare feet (she insisted it made the date cuter) carrying her to cut corners and spin a 180 every now and then to check if I'd caught up yet.

After our third lap she finally came to a stop a goal, casually propping herself up against the post. "Tired yet, captain?"

I take heavy breaths before I get within hearing distance of her, hoping to get enough air in my lungs to make it seem like all this was just a casual jog to me. I smirk at her defiantly. "Of course not. I'm captain for a reason."

She smiles prettily, hopping over to her bag and flicking her battered white ball out of the pocket. "This is the part where I teach you how to kick lefty and make you swoon with my badassery."

"Are you sure this isn't the part where we goof off, because I'm pretty sure that's a joke, Britt. I don't swoon." I lift an eyebrow at her with a crooked grin.

"I've thought about this date a lot, Santana; I think I know the order of my own planned date." She looks serious and keeps complete eye contact with me for a solid ten seconds.

"Is that so?"

"Hush and let me work my swag." She says with that same dead serious expression.

I bite my lip hard then curl them to press into each other. "You did not just say that."

"Hush, Santana! It's not time to goof off yet!" She huffs with a furrowed brow and a pair of crossed arms. She's tapping her foot impatiently and I can't help but feel like I kind of like this bantering, cute thing.

I raise my hands up in surrender, wiggling my fingers a little with a small smile. She matches mine in a second, the crease in her forehead smoothing out instantly.

She spends the next hour trying to teach me to kick lefty (she did touch my leg by the way, way more than any soccer coach has before) and how to do some juggling tricks, flicking the ball up on her laces and doing tricks I've never imagined were possible. She twisted and spun like a dancer, but left her feet planted firmly on the ground if they weren't touching the ball.

I let out a whoop of excitement when she nudges the back of her left leg with her right foot, setting her into a pen drop then popping back up to catch the ball on her laces just before it slaps the ground.

So maybe she did woo me a little bit.

"Santana, get down here!" A pale hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me down to the ground and out of my thoughts. "Step three, watch the clouds."

My back is crushing down on the soft, uneven clumps of grass. I tip my head over to the right a little bit, letting my temple rest against the palm of my right hand. Brittany's got her hands clasped and laced together atop her stomach, eyes roaming over the cloudy sky idly. Her feet are swaying to the right then left then back again, just as carefree as she is.

"Santana?"

"Yeah, Brittany?" I let my browns meet her blues.

She points her finger up to the sky, "What do you see on that one?" She's pointing to a big mass of condensed water vapor.

I decide to humor her, skipping over my typical answer of, 'a cloud.' "I see," I take a second to look over it again, squinting my eyes at it a little, "I see a crab."

"Oh! Woah, I see it too. You're good at this." Her eyes light up in glee when I smile at her.

"Hey, San?" She's turning her head again, craning her neck to the side to see me again. "What about that one?"

I squint again, "Berry's nose."

She bursts into a fit of giggles, rolling onto her stomach and towards me. "How is that her nose?"

"Because," I keep up a solemn expression, rolling onto my side and propping my head up on my elbow supported palm, "It's huge."

She tosses her head back, laughing up at the sky. "Santana, you're awful!" Her voice is full of mirth and as cliché as it sounds, there's no other way to describe it – there's a twinkle in her eye and it really does make my heart skip a beat.

Like a scratched CD.

I groan mentally to myself. Lame, much?

I'm knocked out of my thoughts again by Brittany, who lets out a happy sigh. "Santana?" She's on her back again so I roll back to mirror her because I think she's about to ask me about another cloud.

I hum, waiting for her to point to a certain ball of fluff.

"I know all this wasn't spontaneously planned, but I really like it. I really liked it a lot and even if it didn't go completely as planned to me it was perfect." She rolls onto her stomach again, her arm pressing against my shoulder. The wind is blowing a little bit through this small Ohio town and pushing the blonde ends of her hair into my face and I can't help but think that she's right.

"Me too, it was perfect."

The sudden smile on her face only stretches mine further. "So, I know it wasn't spontaneous like it was supposed to be," she clears her throat, "So I was wondering if I could take you out again sometime. Is that cool?"

"You really want this to be spontaneous, huh?" I flicker my eyes up to hers, bracing myself. For what? I really don't know.

She nods frantically. "Of course! It's what makes life awesome."

I find myself threading my fingers through the ends of her hair suspended only inches above my face. They reach higher and higher until they reach her collarbone. She's looking quizzically at me, just as confused as I am by my actions. I brace myself again. I know what I was going to do now.

"Spontaneity, yeah?" I tug her down by the neckline of her dry-fit until her lips are just above mine.

The excitement in her eyes is no doubt matching mine and despite the dead silence, our smiles are still etched firmly across our faces and showing no signs of leaving. She nods shyly before letting her eyes flutter closed.

I lean upwards towards her, my abs clenching at the strain. Tilting her chin slightly to the side I press my lips confidently against her skin.

Her eyes flutter open quickly. She looks confused, but not at all offended.

"I didn't want to ruin step five remember? You have to kiss me goodnight. I just wanted to add some spontaneity." I wink at her before laying back down on the grass with my arms as my pillow.

She falls beside me, a hand cupping her kissed cheek gingerly.

"You were right by the way. Spontaneity?" I flip over to rest on my stomach, pulling my arm out from under me to pull away the fingers cupping her cheek. I tap the smooched spot sweetly. "Pretty awesome."

She tucks her lips into her mouth, forming a flat line, and her eyes squinting a tad bit to show she was holding back an embarrassingly huge smile. The blonde pulls her weight up into sitting position, then pulls her feet up into a low squat. She sends me a goofy smile before she rolls over her shoulder like a faux ninja.

A chuckle pours from my mouth, "Adorkable."

"Shut up!" She laughs again, offering her hand down to me. "Step four! Come on, Maggie Moo's!"

I grab the hand firmly, steadying my feet in preparation for her to pull me up. She does pull me up. She pulls me up hard enough to send me up, into the air, then over her shoulder. "Oh my God, Brittany!" My laugh comes out a little breathless because of the shoulder jutting into my tummy.

"Santana, we're in a fire! Stop laughing, this is an emergency!" She carries me over her shoulder fireman style like a sack of potatoes all the way over to her car. The big bounding steps she takes make me bounce with her, pushing her shoulder even harder into my stomach.

Regardless of the supposed fire I can't stop laughing and Brittany doesn't seem to like that. She remedies the situation with a tickle fight in her passenger seat and by blasting her chosen radio station as loud as possible.

Rolling up to Maggie Moo's with the stereo blasting, we fling open our doors and race each other to the door. Brittany gets there first with her long legs, practically ripping the entrance door off its hinges only to stand behind it with one arm out in welcome.

I pass through the half-way through the entrance then lay a hand on her arm to tug her in after me. "Opening the door for me? What a stud." I smile at her jokingly.

"I have major stud powers." She said with an affirmative nod and a quirky grin. She pushes me onto a stool and rushing into line. The blonde comes back less than two minutes later with one strawberry cone and one coffee cone mixed in with crushed graham crackers.

I lift an eyebrow up at her chosen ice cream for me as she laps away at her pink treat (I'm talking about ice cream by the way.). I take a dive in it with my tongue, pulling out little bits of graham cracker debris with it into my mouth, munching tentatively. I hum in approval, earning a smirk from my date. "How did you know I'd like this?"

She snorts before replying matter-of-factly, "Major stud powers."

In less than five minutes we've gone from sharing ice cream to swiping it across each other's cheeks and noses and somehow getting suspended from Maggie Moo's.

We're shooed out the door and into the parking lot, laughing all the way and buckling ourselves into our seats as soon as we get to the car. She's driving us back to the high school parking lot now, fingers thumping on her leather steering wheel along to the bass of her stereo. They're long, lithe, and weather-beaten by days outside playing soccer. They look rugged like my own. I want to hold them in between my own and see if they're just as beaten as mine and how the weight feels in my palm.

I beat myself up a little over the sappy thoughts because that's so un-Satan like.

We slow to a stop right beside my car in the McKinley high parking lot. I reach over for the passenger seat handle before I feel a sharp slap on my left shoulder. I let out a hiss and immediately retract my hand from the handle to cradle my stinging skin. "Brittany, step six is kissing me goodnight, not slapping the shit out of me."

She lifts a single finger and wiggles it at me in a 'no' fashion. "Door first." Before I can ask what she's talking about she's pushing out of her door and sprinting to mine in record time. She pulls the passenger door open slowly and waits for me to exit. I can't help the crazy grin filling up my mouth. She turns around again, plucking my keys out of my hand and unlocking my driver door. She opens the door again.

Before I can sit down she grabs my hand and pulls me a little closer to her. She looks hopeful when she lets the words reach my ears, "This is the part where I kiss you, remember?" She steps a little closer, her eyes flickering to my pouty lips.

I nod and lean in to meet her half way with heavy-lidded eyes.

"But it's not going to be an 'I'm sorry' kiss, right? Because I thought it went pretty well." Brittany murmured, literally a breaths width away from my lips. "I mean I haven't asked you what you thought yet, but-"

"I think you should stop talking now because unless you don't want the kiss." I whisper just as quietly, my lips barely brushing hers.

She shudders in anticipation, "Okay."

Brittany presses forward that little bit more, her lips molding against mine softly. They feel like the clouds we were looking at earlier, soft, whimsical, and so perfect that they seemed almost out of reach. I lean my body into hers, grabbing onto her shoulders with my hands and feeling her arms wrap around my waist in response. We press together for a deeper kiss, our lips colliding more firmly, but without tongue. We're so close that my nose is nuzzling into her cheek and brushing the base of her nose. I tap on her shoulder slowly, not wanting the moment to end, but knowing that despite her major stud powers and my captain swag we're human beings and we need air.

She smiles into the kiss and I mirror her, effectively breaking the kiss. "Best first kiss ever."

I smile into her neck before pulling away and taking a step back because this is only the first date and I don't want to seem too enamored. I fell back against my car, my thighs resting against the driver's leather seat to gather my thoughts for a reply.

"So when's our second date?" She smiled cockily with her question, leaning her body forward with her arms propped up on the car, one on the hood and another on the side frame.

I rolled my eyes playfully at her, swinging my legs into the seat to rest my flip flop covered feet against the brakes. "I'll see you Monday for school, we'll talk then." I wink at her then jam the car keys into the ignition and let her shut the door. Pulling out a bit I roll down the window. "Hey Brittany?"

She strolls over to my window leisurely with a gentle smile.

I lean out of the window slightly, tapping my bottom lip twice with my pointer finger. She catches the hint and leans in slowly to press her lips to mine for a second time today. It was chaste and short. I blinked my eyes a couple times dazedly, "Another for the road?"

She smiles lazily, pushing her mouth to mine again. "I'll see you Monday, yeah?"

"Yeah." I hum before pulling myself back into my seat and watching the tall girl step into her own car and pull up along side me. She winks playfully and blows me a kiss then drives off with a waving hand out the window and a stereo blasting.

Spontaneity makes everything amazing. But I'm pretty sure Brittany Pierce does too.

* * *

><p>If any of you guys noticed, I changed everything to a present tense verbal usage. It's probably frowned upon or something weird for me to do that in the middle of the story, but I felt like it sooo, sorry.<p>

Hoped you guys liked it!

Worked really hard on this chapter.

Reviews, comments, and questions are all welcome!

Apologies for any grammatical mistakes or anything. Thank you!

- International Annoyance


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